Eating Acorns
by JENGEORGE
Summary: Kurt learns that maybe slowing down once and a while —like taking the time for lunch— might not be such a bad thing after all.


**A/N: This was written in an attempt to get the idea of a Glee/Ugly Betty crossover out of my head, so that I can focus on my actual bigbang AU. You don't have to be an Ugly Betty fan, though, to enjoy this story. It's slightly ridiculous, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**A/N2: Thanks to all of you who have been enjoying my story **_**Defies Calculation**_**. I am thankful for the great reviews and I hope that I have responded to them all. FFnet isn't letting me know if I've responded like it used to, but I want you all to know how thankful I am for the kind words and encouragement!**

_~An ungrateful man is like a hog under a tree eating acorns, but never looking up to see where they come from~  
><em> 

Kurt sits at his desk, triple checking his article for the June issue of Mode. It's the first time anything he's submitted has been accepted for publication, so the last thing he wants is a reason for Wilhelmina to give it—or him—the ax.

He's verifying his spelling of_ jodhpurs_ when a flash of red past his door distracts him from his screen, but when he looks up, there's nothing to see. He'd think its Mark messing with him, but even he knows what a big deal this is for Kurt and _no one_ misses one of Willie's deadlines.

The next time he sees it, Kurt doesn't even bother to look up. This is the biggest opportunity of his career and he's not planning on letting anything get in his way.

When the red passes by the third time, Kurt makes a mental note to hide Mark's keys in retaliation, and he looks up to see that the red is in fact now standing in his doorway—in the form of an apron—apparently attached to a Greek god. And now Kurt knows this isn't Mark's doing, because there is no way Mark would let a guy like this out of his sight.

Kurt can't help but stare at the figure before him and has all but convinced himself it's a hallucination his mind has created in protest to spending all his time working, when the man clears his throat and says, "'Sup? You hungry? I've got sandwiches, or don't you eat either?"

_What?_ Confused, Kurt asks, "Excuse me? Are you one of the models for today? You need to be on the floor below."

"Nah," the man answers, his smirk letting Kurt know he's not surprised that Kurt might mistake him for a model. "I'm the new sandwich cart guy, but seeing as no one eats around here, I have a feeling this is going to be a pretty boring job."

He's probably right, because Kurt hasn't seen anyone eat anything heavier than a salad in the six months he's been here, if they eat anything at all. It's not like anyone has time to take a lunch break. And he's pretty sure Wilhelmina fired Joan in Graphics for eating a bagel at a layout meeting.

Kurt's about to answer that no, he doesn't need a sandwich, he's perfectly fine with the carrots and hummus he brought with him when, as if on cue, Kurt's traitorous stomach rumbles loudly.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Stepping into the room, he looks at Kurt like he's trying to figure something out, and Kurt can't help the blush he feels on his cheeks at the attention. "Let's see; turkey and swiss on rye with lettuce." He pauses a moment before he adds, "_and_ mayo."

Kurt wants to laugh, because—please—he hasn't let himself have mayonnaise on a sandwich, let alone bread at a meal in…well, he can't remember the last time. But the funny thing is it really is his favorite sandwich that his dad used to make him when he was a kid.

"What are you, some kind of sandwich whisperer?"

Kurt does laugh when the man rolls his eyes and answers, "No, I used to work at my uncles deli in high school. You fill enough orders, you learn what people like. So how 'bout it?"

"Oh, all right, but no mayo," Kurt answers, as if to prove that the man didn't have him bang to rights.

"Oh, no; you know you want the mayo. It's homemade."

Kurt bristles at the man's certainty and says, "How would you even know if I like mayo? You don't know a thing about me?"

The smirk is back as the man moves to sit on the edge of the desk closest to Kurt. "Let's see. I know your name is Kurt Hummel."

"That's not very hard to figure out, seeing that my name is on my door."

"Okay, then; I know you work really hard at your job."

Kurt flushes at the praise, even though he knows it's empty. But it's not every day a gorgeous man sits on his desk and pays him a compliment. "Thank you, but there is no way you could know that for sure."

"Sure I can. I've walked by your door at least three times every day this week, and you haven't so much as looked up. You're always looking at your laptop or going through the piles of papers on your desk. I guess you could be surfing the net for porn, but you don't strike me as the type."

Kurt's not surprised that he didn't notice a beautiful man walk by his door. He works for a fashion magazine, for the love of Prada. If he spent all his time looking at every attractive man he saw in a day, he'd never get anything done. But he is surprised that one of them has noticed him, and apparently his work habits. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think he's being flirted with. But things like that don't happen to Kurt Hummel.

"Seeing me working at my desk hardly qualifies as knowing me or my mayonnaise_ preferences_ for that matter."

"Well, I do know this," the man leans over until his mouth is only a few inches away from Kurt's ear before he continues, "you look totally hot when you're all focused, sucking on the end of your pen, and singing under your breath." The man pulls back and hops off the desk before he adds, "To be honest, you've been distracting me from my work all week. The least you can do is try the mayo," then heads out to his cart to make Kurt his sandwich.

And this has to be the most surreal conversation Kurt has ever had. Maybe he's passed out from hunger or something and that is why he's dreaming about sexy guys making him sandwiches and telling him that he's hot.

"Who are you?" Kurt has to ask. Maybe if Dream Man has an actual name, this will feel real.

"My name's Noah. Noah Puckerman," Noah says as he walks back in and hands the carefully wrapped sandwich over, letting his fingers linger over Kurt's when they touch.

Kurt stifles a gasp at the contact as he takes the sandwich, "Thank you, Noah."

Noah watches as Kurt carefully pulls back the wrapper and takes a bite out of his sandwich. It's delicious, and Kurt can't hold back the moan the escapes as he chews. But it's worth it to see the pleased look on Noah's face.

"It's good isn't it?"

"It's delicious," Kurt says before he takes another, larger bite.

"And the mayo?" Noah asks as he rounds the desk again to resume his place at the corner of Kurt's desk.

Kurt's mouth is to full to answer, but he nods his agreement that it is good, and the perfect addition to the sandwich.

Noah just watches Kurt chew and after he swallows, Kurt says, "I didn't realize how hungry I was. This is really good, Noah. I think you'll be quite successful."

Noah huffs a laugh and says, "Thanks, but I'm just doing this for some extra cash while I finish up school. But it's good to know I have something to fall back on if things don't work out."

"Where do you go?"

"Brooklyn Conservatory. I'm a classical guitarist. So I'm only half kidding when I say it's a good thing I make a decent sandwich. It's not going to be easy to find a job I can live on."

"Well I'll be happy to give you a reference for your sandwich making talents if you need," Kurt says, emphasizing his words with another bite.

"Does that mean you won't mind if I stop by tomorrow?" Noah looks straight into Kurt's eyes as he asks.

Kurt curses his fair skin as he feels his neck flush at the intensity of Noah's gaze, but he doesn't look away.

"I'd like that."

"Good." Noah looks out at his cart and then back at Kurt, and Kurt understands that Noah needs to go. Kurt needs to get back to his work anyway, but, if Noah meant what he said this isn't an ending to their meeting, just a beginning.

"How much do I owe you for the sandwich?" Kurt asks as he reaches for his wallet.

"This one's on the house, but if you're going to give me a reference, I'm gonna need your number."

Noah's pretty smooth and Kurt is thrilled to think that this could be more than just flirting. Part of him wants to whip out his card and write his cell number on the back—the same part of him that would spend every minute agonizing and second guessing himself until Noah called—but something holds him back, just a bit.

"Well, how about I have that for you when you come back tomorrow?"

Noah barks a loud laugh and nods his head as he backs out toward his cart. "I can live with that." He put away the stuff he used to make Kurt's sandwich and closes the top before he looks back up at Kurt and smiles, "I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt," and then he pushes off down the hall.

And just like that, Kurt is alone in his office again, his article waiting in front of him. If it weren't for the half eaten sandwich he's holding, he's pretty sure he would think he'd just imagined Noah Puckerman.

As he takes another bite, and resumes the review of his article, he thinks that maybe slowing down once and a while—like, taking the time for lunch—might not be such a bad thing after all.


End file.
